


Once Upon a Mid(day) Dreary

by mist_chance



Series: The Run-Around [1]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, M/M, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-22
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-01 04:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12148638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mist_chance/pseuds/mist_chance
Summary: There was nothing about “Hisui” in the citizen registry, other than his name, age, address, and current workplace. If Katakuri was any less duty-bound, he might have felt guilt or disgust at starting a thorough background check on a person more than two decades his junior; but he had reason to believe there was more to Hisui than met the eye.





	1. Chapter 1

Over the course of twenty-three years, Katakuri had come to appreciate his unofficial position as overseer of the administrative duties for Totto Land and the Big Mom Pirates. From his office in Whole Cake Chateau, Katakuri received reports from his siblings, the Knights, the Rooks, and Mama’s allies. He read over the reports, signed off on them, and filed them appropriately for future reference. It was a dull, tedious job, but the repetitive nature of it allowed Katakuri to fall into a meditative trance, somewhere between conscious thought and habit. While in that in-between state, he trained his Kenbunshoku Haki. There was a requirement for physical exertion when awakening and first using Haki, but Katakuri had been honing his Kenbunshoku Haki for years. It was more challenging for him to use it constantly outside of a fight. With this additional training, he was able to see further into the future with a minimal amount of concentration, until it was more of a reflex than conscious thought.

The reason Katakuri had acquired his unofficial position was because, to this day, the likelihood of Mama undertaking any administrative responsibility for herself was low. Mama’s skillset was in business negotiations, specifically in regards to political marriages and connections. The only paperwork she showed interest in was the contracts involved in those negotiations. While those contracts were important for the wellbeing of their Family and crew, it was more of a big-picture concern.

The reports Katakuri oversaw regarded the smaller details that ensured Totto Land functioned smoothly on a daily basis. A country could not exist without generating paperwork, and if that paperwork were left unprocessed, nothing would get done. So Katakuri took on the responsibility of dealing with the administrative duties of running a country. It helped that he was a Sweet Commander — his primary concern was Mama’s wellbeing, and the second was ensuring the security of Totto Land. Unlike his other siblings, he was not a Minister. Unless he was training or called to pull his rank as a Sweet Commander, Katakuri had a lot more time on his hands than he knew what to do with. Of course, since they submitted reports to _him_ , he was technically the Minister of the Ministers…

Regardless of whether or not his less noticeable contributions to Totto Land and the Big Mom Pirates were acknowledged, his dedication was paying off. The number of people and sentient beings applying for citizenship increased every year, Totto Land was self-sustaining since each island produced an important, unique resource, and the Big Mom Pirates were not only expanding their influence, but also increasing their notoriety.

It was probably for those reasons that Mama had not married Katakuri off. That was fine with him. Katakuri would rather take care of his Family, than get married.

  -----------------

Though Katakuri worked from Whole Cake Chateau, he rarely interacted with his siblings who lived on Whole Cake Island. The youngest of his siblings were too absorbed in their own lives to notice their much older brother, and the adult ones had responsibilities as Ministers, or completing whatever task Mama asked of them. Katakuri saw the other Sweet Commanders on a more regular basis because of their shared rank, though Cracker and Snack had their own islands to govern. Smoothie was the one who tended to barge in at odd times of the day at least three times a week since, like him, she lived on Whole Cake Island.

Sister Compote and Smoothie were under the mistaken impression that he needed to “get out more.” They relentlessly nagged him to leave his office, to be _social_. Now that Sister Compote no longer regularly visited Whole Cake Island, and Smoothie had been given the rank of Sweet Commander, Smoothie had decided to increase the number of times she bothered Katakuri. Usually, Smoothie’s interruptions involved her barging into his office, making some kind of pointed comment, and then leaving after successfully distracting him.

Katakuri doubted she was aware of how negatively she affected his productivity. If she did, she would stop by far more frequently.

“So this is where you’ve been holed up,” Smoothie said as she strolled in and settled on the only other chair in Katakuri’s office. It was her second unannounced visit of the week; she’d chosen to interrupt his afternoon routine, probably because it was the hottest day of July thus far. Totto Land usually experienced temperate weather, but the unpredictability of the New World climate changes sometimes made it so the archipelago received bouts of humid weather, especially during the summer months. Smoothie was less likely to target soldiers with her Devil Fruit powers when she was in an air-conditioned area.

“Smoothie,” Katakuri greeted without looking away from the new report he had pulled from the “received” stack.

She propped her feet on his desk. Katakuri steadied the stack of loose papers she disturbed while he read over Sister Compote’s report. “If you don’t leave this office more often, Brother, your gloominess will increase. The woman Mama marries you off to won’t appreciate having such a dour husband.”

Smoothie tended to bring up Katakuri’s eligibility for marriage in the two or three months preceding and following his birthday. Hopefully, since his forty-second birthday had passed two months ago, she would soon lose interest until next year.

“And where is your monthly status report, Minister of Justice?” Katakuri saw Smoothie flinch in his peripheral vision as he made a few notes on the report, signed it, and put it in its appropriate stack. “Mama’s crew and country would fall apart if these administrative tasks are not taken care of. My personal matters can wait.” He grabbed a new report and started reading it.

“My dutiful brother,” Smoothie said in a wry tone. “I know how much you care about our Family, but it’s fine to want something for yourself, too.”

“Whole Cake Island would not remain standing if I found a hobby that ran along the same tastes as yours or Brûlée’s.”

With Smoothie wringing out incompetent soldiers left and right, and Brûlée toying with not just soldiers but the rare disobedient citizen or Homie as well, the island would not survive having another person with a twisted hobby running around. Katakuri cared about all his siblings, but he did not overlook or dismiss their faults. Sometimes he wished Sister Compote had not moved to govern Fruits Island. It was tiring to be the only sensible, reasonable member of their Family on Whole Cake Island.

Smoothie shrugged as she stood up and moved towards the door. “At least we’re happy. Can you say the same, Brother?” She paused in the doorway to deliver a parting shot. “I honestly don’t know how you haven’t gone crazy over the years, with how serious you are.” Then she left, her departure as sudden as her arrival.

Katakuri sighed quietly and put his pen down. This was why he hated Smoothie’s interruptions. Even though her visits were brief, his concentration was always shot for a long while after her departure. Katakuri tried to read the next report — Cracker’s update on his search for the most recent invader of Totto Land who was competent enough to reach Biscuits Island — but the words bled together into a meaningless string of black ink.

He sighed again, cracked his neck, and stood up. Maybe the fresh air would help him refocus. At the very least, seeing others go about their daily lives in the city would remind him why it was important to get through all his paperwork as soon as possible.

  -----------------

Katakuri sipped at his tea, taking care not to spill any on his scarf. The cafés in Sweet City tended to follow the popular trend set by Mama’s latest Tea Party, but the one he had chosen was more of a teashop than a café. He preferred teashops — they were quieter, the tea was not sweet upon serving, and he liked how the tea tasted when served in a _yukomi_. However, it was harder for him to keep his face covered when he drank from a _yukomi_ ; there was no handle he could grasp to tilt the cup at the best angle to reach his mouth, without adjusting his scarf.

Right now, he was not concerned about showing his face. The few customers in the teashop were too busy minding their own business to glance at him, if they noticed his presence. It was…relaxing to sit in his secluded corner of the shop, and enjoy his tea. Brother Peros would probably make some kind of snide remark if he found out Katakuri was drinking tea on such a hot day, but Katakuri was used to ignoring Brother Peros when he had to. Tea helped him refocus and concentrate.

He let his eyes close, but before he reached that meditative state where he trained his Haki, he realized there was music softly echoing throughout the shop. He also realized, then, that he had no idea why he had chosen _this_ shop in particular, opposed to his usual teashop, one close to Whole Cake Chateau. He had no reason to venture this far into Sweet City, almost the exact center of it, unless Mama, one of his siblings, or his duties required him to.

Katakuri opened his eyes and spotted a musician playing a shinobue at the back of the shop, on a raised wooden platform that served as a small stage. The musician was a slender man with dark-red hair. He looked too delicate to be a threat, but Katakuri knew better than to underestimate anyone — especially a person who looked like they should not be a threat.

“Are you enjoying your tea, Commander Dogtooth?” the serving girl asked as she placed a new cup of tea in front of him.

“Who is he?” Katakuri jabbed a thumb at the musician.

“Takata-san hired Hisui-san earlier this week, to help bring in customers. He’s been doing a great job so far. Our sales have doubled, and they might even triple before the end of the week,” the girl said with a pleasant smile.

“He plays the shinobue…and the koto?” Katakuri’s gaze briefly settled on the wooden instrument set up on the stage next to the musician.

“Yes. Takata-san prefers that Hisui-san play the koto during the busier times of the day, so you missed his lunchtime performance. If you’re interested, he’ll play it again in two or three hours.”

“I want to talk to him.”

“Talk? Ano… Commander Dogtooth, has Hisui-san…done something wrong?” The girl glanced from Katakuri to the musician, then to the counter and back to Katakuri. Her expression had shifted from the pleasant customer service smile to a strange blankness.

“No.” He would have said, _Not yet_ , if his Haki had not shown him the girl would find a way to warn the musician off. Words — spoken ones, at least — were not one of his strengths. It was a weakness that became more apparent when he interacted with civilians.

The girl’s fingers were bone-white as she clutched the serving tray to her chest. “Hisui-san can’t speak.”

“…What?”

“He’s mute. You can talk to him, but if you’re planning to interrogate him, you’ll be having a one-sided conversation until he has a pen and paper. So whatever you think Hisui-san has done…” The girl glared at Katakuri. “He is _not_ a bad person.”

Katakuri watched the girl’s shoulders start to tremble, and turned to look at the musician. The musician, still playing the shinobue with the same ease and grace as earlier, was looking back at him. When their eyes met, the musician held Katakuri’s gaze, and then deliberately looked away.

No, the musician "Hisui" was not _just_ a musician.

“Thanks for the tea,” Katakuri said as he stood up. He left enough money for both drinks, though he had not touched the second one. It would be better, Katakuri decided as he walked past the stuttering serving girl, if he investigated the musician a bit before confronting him.

  -----------------

There was nothing about “Hisui” in the citizen registry, other than his name, age, address, and current occupation. If Katakuri was any less duty-bound, he might have felt guilt or disgust at starting a thorough background check on a person more than two decades his junior; but he had reason to believe there was more to Hisui than met the eye.

He was almost certain that Hisui was a Siren.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started working on this after reading last week's _One Piece_ update. I really shouldn't be starting another fic, but...I couldn't help myself. The fic and series titles come from the Blues Traveler's song, "Run-Around."
> 
> This entire fic will be from Dogtooth's POV. It's currently Gen and M/M, but I'm leaning towards a Katakuri/Hisui pairing. I'll change the tags accordingly.
> 
> Like and/or comment to show your support!
> 
>  **Edited 2/2/18:** When I started this fic, Katakuri's age hadn't been determined. It's set four years before Romance Dawn, so based on the information I had, I estimated Katakuri to be about thirty-four. When I looked at his updated character stats and did the math (if I did it right), it turns out Katakuri would be forty-two in this fic, making the age difference between him and Hisui much larger than I intended. I'm not entirely comfortable with age differences this large, but since this is a fanfic I can make it work. 
> 
> ALSO, I just found out that Katakuri's seiyuu is going to be Sugita Tomokazu, who also voices Gintoki from _Gintama_! I'm so psyched!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t worry, Brother,” Smoothie said. “We’ll have that musician swooning into your arms in no time.”
> 
> Katakuri felt a faint tingle of dread at that pronouncement.

Katakuri’s plan was straightforward: observe the musician, Hisui, and search for any information on Sirens.

Most of Katakuri’s plans, motivations, and actions were straightforward; but due to the ridiculous pedestal most of his younger siblings and Totto Land citizens placed him on, everything he did was overanalyzed and overpraised. It had annoyed him at first, but just as he hid his face to avoid unnecessary conflict, he had learned to hide this discomfort as well.

In the two weeks since Katakuri first discovered Hisui’s presence, he had visited the Shimotsuki teashop every other day. He made sure to vary when he visited, so he could not be anticipated. Between those visits, he had searched Mama’s library — the actual library, not Mont-d’Or’s Prisoner Library — for information on Sirens. Katakuri quickly discovered that not much was known about them, other than the common knowledge of Sirens being able to control, or at the very least influence, a person’s mind with their voice.

Sirens had once inhabited Htym, an island located somewhere in the New World between the Red Line and Totto Land. They had been similar to the Fishmen and Merpeople of Fishman Island in that few Sirens ever left Htym, voluntarily or otherwise. However, unlike Fishman Island, Sirens had rarely allowed outsiders to land on Htym’s shores. There were scant accounts of sailors, pirates, and Marines who had traveled to Htym and either never made it past the shoreline, or were never seen or heard from again. The island had been overrun and destroyed by pirates a little over a decade ago — details of that event were severely lacking — and the World Government had declared Sirens extinct.

The only additional information Katakuri found was an account that described their physical traits. Most Sirens had possessed exotic hair and/or eye colors — _bright_ colors — and their eyes lacked prominent pupils. Based on his observations, Katakuri could confirm Hisui did not have noticeable pupils, a trait that seemed to be neither a benefit nor a hindrance. What he was most interested in, but could not determine, was whether musical instruments could substitute a Siren’s voice if a Siren was playing the instrument. Katakuri’s failure to ascertain this ability left him…uneasy.

  -----------------

“Brother!” Smoothie barged into his office and nearly sent two stacks of paper tumbling off his desk. Though Katakuri knew the stacks would not fall, he could not stop his arm from twitching as the papers fluttered and trembled unsteadily. “I’ve heard rumors that you’re either stalking or wooing a musician in Sweet City. Which is true?”

“Why must one be true?” Katakuri said sharply. “I thought you knew better than to listen to gossip, Smoothie.” He looked back at the report he had been staring at without reading for the past…

Well. For much longer than he would need, had he actually been reading it.

“Rumors have a grain of truth to them,” Smoothie said in an irritatingly sage tone. The hand she placed on top of the closest stack of paperwork was almost the same height as her waist. Katakuri pretended not to see the intent, considering onceover she gave that stack, and the four others just like it. “In this case, it seems the grain of truth is actually a boulder. I’ve never seen so much paperwork on your desk, Brother. I can’t even see the surface.”

Katakuri put his pen down and looked at Smoothie. “And where did you hear these…rumors.”

“Your fan club has a very extensive network throughout Totto Land. It’s especially concentrated in Sweet City.” Smoothie looked much more amused than Katakuri thought the ridiculous notion of a “fan club” warranted. “They’re not very discrete, though they make an effort when you’re nearby.”

While he was annoyed his so-called fans were following him more closely than expected, Katakuri was more irritated that he had failed to notice them. In training his Kenbunshoku Haki for combat situations, Katakuri had noticed it prioritized what it detected based on his interests, such as intended targets or the threat level of his opponents. Most likely, his “fans” were beneath his notice and failed to get picked up by his Haki. If only he could—

Katakuri stilled, and ignored how Smoothie came to attention. There _was_ a way to utilize his “fans” so they weren’t stalking him, and continue surveillance on Hisui without drawing further attention to himself.

“Smoothie. I have a job for you.”

  -----------------

Though he did not have high expectations of the surveillance competency of civilians — particularly those delusional enough to label themselves his “fans” — Katakuri was still disappointed with the reports Smoothie had given him. Most of the reports were thinly veiled love letters, confessions or fanatic declarations of love interspersed between inane play-by-play observations of Hisui’s actions or behavior. There were no astute inferences, nothing insightful that could help Katakuri determine whether or not Hisui was actually a Siren, if he was a threat.

Two weeks of personally observing Hisui, one week of delegating surveillance to his fan club, and Katakuri had nothing to show for it. At this point, it would be better to confront Hisui…

He flipped through the remaining reports, though he did not expect any new information to turn up. Katakuri stopped on the third or second to last report, drawn to the observation that when Hisui was not playing the shinobue, he kept the lower part of his face covered with a navy scarf.

Hisui hid his face… Katakuri closed his eyes and recalled the last time he had seen Hisui. It had been two days ago; while Katakuri had Smoothie assigned surveillance to his fan club, he knew it would be suspicious for him to suddenly stop showing up at the teashop. Katakuri had sat in his usual corner, though he did not employ the habitual hawk-like intensity of watching the other customers, the workers, or Hisui. He ate lunch there while Hisui played the koto… And yes, now that he thought about it, Katakuri remembered making an absent-minded observation that Hisui wore a scarf in a manner similar to him.

He opened his eyes and carefully read the report. While the girl who had written it still professed her admiration for him, her observations and inferences were at the level of surveillance Katakuri expected of the Rooks and Knights. When Hisui played the shinobue, he was careful to lower his scarf just below his chin — he never exposed his neck. He rarely interacted with customers, most likely because he needed to write his responses. He seemed hyperaware of his surroundings, his eyes flitting to entrances or strange movements, and reacting to sudden movements or loud noises. But most importantly: “Sometimes he looks like Katakuri-sama does, when Katakuri-sama uses Haki.”

It was possible— unlikely, but _possible_ that Hisui was one of the rare individuals born with the ability to use Kenbunshoku Haki. However, those individuals did not exhibit the kind of hyperawareness Hisui was noted to show. Hyperawareness was _trained_ into someone so deeply that it became unnatural to not use it. Hisui was trained to fight. The only reason someone trained to fight and who had Kenbunshoku Haki would pretend to be as unthreatening as possible, was if—

Was if that person was a _spy_.

“Shit.” Katakuri closed his eyes and rubbed the deepened furrow between his eyebrows. It did not matter at this point whether Hisui was a Siren or not, because he _was_ a threat.

His Haki flared, warning him of Smoothie’s approaching presence. Katakuri quickly thought over what he had learned about Hisui, and weighed the pros and cons of several strategies he could think of off-hand. He came to a decision as the door creaked open.

“Smoothie,” Katakuri said as she stepped into his office. “How should I go about courting someone?”

“Oh?” Smoothie’s lips curled into a lazy, sly smile. “So it’s ‘wooing,’ then?”

Katakuri watched her settle into the chair across from him, apprehension fluttering in his stomach. This “courting” approach would work best, he thought. It was a more inelegant strategy than he preferred, but if he took longer to develop a better one, Smoothie’s curiosity would give way to suspicion — and a suspicious Smoothie had a tendency to _meddle_. The only reason she had humored him so far was out of respect. But if Katakuri further delayed discussing what he intended to do with Hisui, Smoothie would have more time to scheme up her own investigation.

With this strategy, at least, the threat Hisui posed would be contained. Katakuri could use courting as an excuse to keep Hisui close enough to monitor. In doing so, Katakuri would not have to waste further time and resources keeping track of him. From previous experience, Katakuri knew no spy would pass up such a golden opportunity to infiltrate the organization he was spying on. He was certain Hisui would let himself be courted to get closer to the Charlotte Family.

And, to avoid further complications, Katakuri was resigned to allowing Smoothie find amusement in his ignorance and awkwardness regarding social interactions.

“Don’t worry, Brother,” Smoothie said. “We’ll have that musician swooning into your arms in no time.”

He felt a faint tingle of dread at that pronouncement.

  -----------------

Katakuri rotated his right shoulder and grimaced when the shirtsleeve constricted his range of movement. His scarf, in addition to hiding his mouth, had the added benefit of hiding his facial expressions. He wondered if Hisui appreciated that benefit as much as he did.

Smoothie’s suggestion — which had been more of an order since she strong-armed him into going through with it — was that he ask Hisui to be his…lover. Katakuri disliked the weight and sound of the word, even in his mind, but had no other way to designate what Hisui would become to him, from an outside perspective. He refused to use the terms “boyfriend,” “boy-toy,” or “jailbait” — the first sounded too frivolous, and the latter two demeaning. The citizen registry listed Hisui’s age to be twenty-one, though he looked younger than that… Probably because he was a spy, and had lied about his age. Fuck, Hisui really _could_ be jailbait.

Katakuri squeezed his eyes shut and massaged the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath and opened them to look at his reflection in a store window. A few curious pedestrians slowed to take in Katakuri’s appearance, when they recognized him. He spared them a brief glance, before inspecting his appearance.

Smoothie had insisted he wear a shirt with sleeves to show his “good side,” and his seriousness about being interested in Hisui. In her words, Hisui was “out of his league,” and he needed to put in the effort to show his sincerity. She had also relieved him of his spiked accessories, and smoothed his hair down with a concerning amount of gel. At this point, the only part of himself Katakuri could recognize was his scarf and face. Everything else that made him Sweet Commander Dogtooth had been stripped away and replaced with a man dressed in slacks and a dress-shirt a size too small. The added effect of the candied flower bouquet made Katakuri feel all the more ridiculous.

A surge of anger had him crumpling the bouquet and ruffling his hair free. Katakuri threw the bouquet in the nearest trashcan and noticed, distantly, that several citizens nearby had started and cowered at the sudden violent action. He was furious at Smoothie for forcing him to follow her suggestion; he was even more furious at himself for taking this sham so seriously. Why was he going through the effort of making himself presentable, when Hisui would say yes no matter how he looked? What he said or did, what he looked like, would not matter.

Hisui would agree to be in a relationship with him for the simple reason that it was convenient to do so.

Katakuri’s anger subsided as suddenly as it had erupted. He grimaced again, realizing how ridiculous he was behaving. While Smoothie’s suggestions had taken Katakuri out of his comfort zone appearance-wise, she was right about one thing — he needed to have something to give when he asked Hisui out. And he had just crumpled his original gift, though he doubted Hisui was the flower type.

He sighed and turned in the direction of Shimotsuki teashop, intending to get the affair over with. A glint in a nearby shop window caught his eye. There, on display, were numerous hair ornaments of various styles and sizes. They were all metal, twisted delicately into elegant designs. Most were flowers, but a few were simple designs of animals adorned with jewels.

Katakuri remembered that Hisui’s bangs were longer now, long enough to hang in his eyes but too short to tuck behind his ears. Since Hisui had yet to cut his hair, perhaps…

  -----------------

“Here,” Katakuri said as he balanced the small package on a fingertip and offered it to Hisui. He had timed their encounter to occur shortly after Hisui’s shift at the teashop ended, and the musician was on his way home.

Hisui’s suspicious frown eased into a bemused one as he looked from Katakuri’s face to the package. He slowly took the package, and once he opened it, his expression smoothed out.

“I would like to court you,” Katakuri said, belatedly becoming aware that _he_ would be the only one capable of making any potential awkward silences less…silent. “Would you…be agreeable to it?”

While Katakuri had been angry with himself just a short while ago about taking this farce of a confession seriously, he grew increasingly anxious the longer Hisui silently stared at the hair ornament. But how could he expect anything other than silence, when Hisui was mute? Katakuri sternly reminded himself. It was absurd, how fast his pulse was racing as he waited for a musician decades younger than him to decide whether he was an acceptable suitor or not.

His heart skipped a beat when Hisui met his gaze, and then stopped when Hisui held the package out to him. Katakuri numbly let Hisui place it back on his fingertip; but before he could move away, Hisui took out the hair ornament with careful hands.

Hisui met Katakuri’s gaze again, and his eyes crinkled at the corners, making Katakuri’s stomach twist with an unidentifiable emotion. Hisui pulled back his bangs and slipped on the hair ornament above his right ear. He lifted his face towards Katakuri, and the teal jewel embedded in the lone, delicately wrought silver bird glinted in the dying sunlight. The jewel’s color paled in comparison to Hisui’s eyes, but just as Katakuri had suspected, the contrasting effect made Hisui’s eyes all the more beautiful. The thin, elegant bands of silver twisting around the bird looked like streaks of silvery water running against Hisui’s dark-red hair.

Katakuri did not need Haki, or for Hisui to be able to speak, to know what was being asked of him when Hisui tilted his head.

“Beautiful.”

Hisui’s eyes crinkled again, making Katakuri’s face burn and his insides twist into tighter knots.

“Does that mean you accept?”

Hisui nodded. He moved his hands and fingers into different positions, and ended by pointed at himself with an eye-smile. It was only appropriate for Hisui to have a language he could use when he did not have a voice or writing implements. But Hisui, seemingly well accustomed to no one understanding him, pulled out his notepad.

“Yes,” he wrote, taking care to shape the characters. Hisui wrote as though he were using a calligraphy brush, instead of a pen. “Please take care of me.”

“Of course,” Katakuri agreed. Slowly, telegraphing his movements, Katakuri curled his free hand and carefully pressed his thumb against the side of Hisui’s face. He had not anticipated the large difference in their sizes until now, when he was suddenly compelled to show Hisui some form of affection. Though Katakuri knew this relationship would not be real, he felt…dismayed by this difficulty.

Hisui, who had not flinched away from Katakuri’s thumb, leaned into his touch. He gazed up at Katakuri, and his eyes crinkled into another smile.

Katakuri reached out with Haki with the intent to sense emotion, for once, and was startled by the warmth he felt from Hisui — warmth that was directed at _him_. He was unable to identify which emotion or emotions Hisui was feeling towards him; Katakuri did not know if Kenbunshoku Haki was capable of being so precise in detecting emotions. But that did not change the fact that Hisui — a stranger, a spy, a possible-Siren — somehow felt sincerely positive emotions for him. And for the life of him, Katakuri could not sense those emotions were false. Katakuri took a deep, shuddering breath, and felt something alarmingly close to awe as he watched Hisui press a hand to his thumb in mimicry of holding hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent a long time trying to figure out the direction I want this fic to go. I think I've got a good idea where this is going now, but you'll have to be patient with me; I'm a slow writer. :)
> 
> Thanks for reading! Leave kudos/comments to show your support!


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